


And a Bottle of Whiskey to Wash It Down

by Medie



Category: Castle/Murder, She Wrote
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-09
Updated: 2010-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:39:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>somewhere deep in her soul, a tiny, tiny part of Detective Kate Beckett begins to cry</p>
            </blockquote>





	And a Bottle of Whiskey to Wash It Down

**Author's Note:**

> Because this is canon in my head and [](http://cereta.livejournal.com/profile)[**cereta**](http://cereta.livejournal.com/) is a bad influence.

Kate's heard the name, of course. _Every_ NYPD detective has heard the name. For years, they held their breath and crossed their fingers when they went to a murder, every single one of them listening for the soft, elegant voice, their eyes combing the witnesses for that infamous well-coiffed hair and politely disbelieving smile.

Every lieutenant in the city keeps a bottle of aspirin (possibly one of whiskey) on hand for the day she sweeps through the door, purse in hand, a 'really now, Detective' already on her lips.

The days of dismissing the lady are long since past, even if she's stayed away in recent years. They lie forever buried beneath the ruins of a dozen detectives' careers, neatly crushed to powder beneath a sensible heel and polite smile.

Everyone knows you never dismiss J.B. Fletcher. No matter how dead to rights you've got the guy. No. Matter. Body. Weapon in hand. Hell, catch them in the _act_. Forget it. If Jessica Fletcher shows up, your party's _over_.

One of her instructors at the Academy, Artie, pretty much sang her praises in his classes (well, as much as Artie sang _anyone's_ praises) and, given the record he retired with, Kate's inclined to believe it. He was a sweet old guy, but one of the department's highest solve rates?

Yeah, right.

She's read some of the research. Writing a murder means planning one, right down to the last detail if the writer's any good, which gives them a 'unique insight into the killer's mind'.

It's the same song and dance people gave _her_ about Castle. Except, of course, the big difference being Jessica's books are _good_. (Okay, okay, so Castle's aren't exactly -- okay, well, they are trash. Absolute trash, but the _good_ kind of trash, but she'll shoot anyone who tries to make her admit it) But, still, same point and all that.

Which is probably why she should have seen this moment coming.

Standing over a body in an NYU hallway, Kate's staring down at a Andrew Zemekis, 24, while his professor (a befuddled looking man in tweed) is read his rights and Castle pontificates at her side.

Then she hears _it_. Somewhere deep in her soul, a tiny, tiny part of Detective Kate Beckett begins to cry, listening to that infamous soft, elegant voice say, with pitch perfect astonishment, "_Richard_? Why Richard is that you?"

Castle stops mid-sentence (and she's going to hear about that later) and stares in shock. "_Aunt Jess_? Oh my god! What are you doing here?"

Kate watches with dismay as he all but jumps the body to wrap one well-coiffed J.B. Fletcher in a careful embrace.

"Esposito?"

"Yeah?"

"Get me an aspirin." And a bottle of whiskey to wash it down. "I'm going to need it."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [You Were About to Say "Homicide", Weren't You? (The Non-Alcoholic Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/192584) by [Gray Cardinal (Gray_Cardinal)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gray_Cardinal/pseuds/Gray%20Cardinal)




End file.
